


Shiva the Cold Heart

by ixieko, Licoriceallsorts



Series: FFVII Folk Tales [20]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, FFVII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: FFVII folk stories, Folklore, Gen, Original Characters - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:16:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixieko/pseuds/ixieko, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Licoriceallsorts/pseuds/Licoriceallsorts





	Shiva the Cold Heart

In the long ago days when animals could talk, a woman gave birth to a daughter. When the child was small the mother doted upon her, and tended her lovingly, but as the child grew older the mother's heart grew restless, seeing her years passing before her eyes. So one night she tucked the child into bed, sang her to sleep, kissed her brow, and said, "Life is short, and the world is wide, and my heart hungers to know what lies over the mountain," and then she took up her staff and put on her cloak and departed from their cottage, and when the child woke in the morning her father said, "We are alone now and must shift for ourselves." So the child baked and swept and did the laundry, until eventually her father married again.

But the mother crossed the mountain and found beyond it another, higher one, and so she crossed that too. One mountain led to another, until even if she had wanted to return home she would not have remembered the way. She found materia, and learned to fight monsters, and traded them, skin and horns and poison sacs, for money, and bought weapons. She grew strong, and soon others, both men and women, wished to follow her, and so she became a bandit queen, and her name was spoken with respect in both taverns and palaces. Her beauty, strength, and courage brought her many lovers, but to none of them she gave her heart. Because she disdained love, they called her Shiva the Cold Heart.

One day in springtime she was resting in her tent at her bandit encampment when her servants brought to her a young maiden whose face was veiled, saying, "We found her in the road, seeking you."

"Why do you seek me?" asked Shiva the Cold Heart.

"I wish to serve you," the maiden replied.

"For what reward? Gold? Silks? Land? A fine husband?"

"For none of those things," the maiden replied. "I wish to learn what manner of woman you are."

"Take off your veil," said Shiva the Cold Heart, "And show me your face."

"That I may not do. Do not ask me; I have sworn a vow."

Shiva the Cold-Heart was angry at this denial; but she liked the maiden's spirit, and the light in her eyes, which were all that could be seen above the veil, and so she said, "Well, if you would serve me, I will give you a task." She snapped her fingers, and her servants brought a bushel of feathers of many kinds all mixed up together. "If you can sort them before the sun goes down," said the queen, "Well, we will see what will follow. But if you fail, you must leave."

The queen's servants spread a rug on the grass and the maiden began to sort through the feathers, making a neat pile of each kind, golden chocobo feathers, white chocobo feathers, phoenix down, epiornis feathers, and the feathers of the garuda, Ramuh's lightning-bird. At sunset Shiva the Cold Heart came and saw that the task was complete. "You have nimble fingers," she told the maiden, "And a keen eye. But do you have a nimble mind? Answer me this riddle:

In winter watch for me         wherever water pools.

In summer seek me,         precious, in sunken tombs.

The more bitter the cold         the harder my resolve

Sunshine saps my strength,         heat hazes me.

The winter works walls from me,         carves caves from me

I am the roof of rivers         keeping the fishes warm.

Cloudy as mist,         clear as a diamond,

I contain rainbows,

But if you hold me in your hand         I will bite you.

What am I?"

"You are ice," the maiden answered promptly.

Shiva was angered that a simple girl could solve her riddle so easily, but she hid her anger, and said, "Well, you are as clever as you are deft, but are you brave and strong? I have one final task for you, and if you prove yourself worthy, you may join us."

"I will do it," said the maiden.

"Foolish girl! You have not yet heard what I will ask of you. Up in the mountain yonder there is a cave, and in that cave lives a dragon that has been tormenting the lives of people roundabout. Slay that dragon, and you may join us."

"Will you give me a weapon?" asked the maiden.

"You may take one weapon of your choice," said the queen.

"Then I choose your heart, for it is the coldest thing I know."

At that Shiva flew into a rage. "Be off with you, insolent wench! Take what you need from my armoury and bring me the dragon's head, or never show your face here again, for if you do, I will kill you."

Shiva's servants led the maiden to the armoury, and gave her a sword and a spear and shield, and a breastplate and a helmet, all goblin-work, forged of mythril; and as they dressed her they pleaded with her not to do this thing, for they pitied her. All those present knew what it was to be lashed by Shiva's cold words. But the maiden would not be dissuaded. So they followed her into the mountain, until they came to the mouth of the cave. "My mistress has given this task to me, not to you," said the maiden. "I go on alone." And she went inside.

And they waited for a night and a day, and their hearts grew heavy, until they could wait no longer; and they went inside the cave, and found the dragon dead, and the maiden also. Amid much lamentation they cut off the dragon's head, and bore it and the maiden's body down to the camp, and laid them both before the queen. And the queen, seeing how her anger had been the death of such a good and clever maiden, in vain wished her hot words unsaid.

"Now I will see her face," she said, "And then we will give her a fitting funeral."

But when Shiva lifted the veil, it was the face of her own daughter she beheld, grown from a child to a woman; the daughter to whom she had refused to give her heart.

And when, many years later, Shiva's soul followed that of her child into the river of life, they opened her breast and found, not a heart, but a crystal of ice. And if you are lucky enough to find this crystal, and you call on it in your time of need, Shiva will come to fight your battle for you, out of remorse for the child who died.

 . 

_(Catalogue Number S.12.03.4: Shiva/Nibel Region/Schneebau Canton/ version 4_

_Markus Collection, Dept. of Ethnology, Junon Polytechnic)_

 

_Faremis: Obviously the theme here is the child's fear of rejection by the parent, and the eternal struggle to prove oneself worthy of love, which is doomed to failure._

_Valentine: Bollocks, my friend. This myth is all about sex; how can you not see that? The single biggest recurring motif is frigidity - and of course the rivalry between the aging queen, who is losing her allure and feels threatened by the nubile young upstart, who doesn't dare show her face for fear of arousing the queen's murderous jealousy._

_Faremis: Not everything is about sex, Grim, for god's sake. This story is about a mother's failure to recognise who her daughter truly is._

_Valentine: They always figure it out too late, don't they? Parents._


End file.
